Transfigured Hearts 5: Open Door
by MrsTater
Summary: The night before the full moon, Remus feels ill and out of sorts. When Tonks opens her door to him, it's an invitation he can't refuse, but he goes to her flat with his own walls erected. Will his resistance to her shut the door on their relationship?
1. Part One

Now that **MetamorFicMoon**'s Last Chance Full Moon Showdown and the _Deathly Hallows _release is past and things have slowed down a bit, I shall resume my regularly-scheduled revisions of the **Transfigured Hearts** series. The original version of this fic can be found **here**. Previously it was a one-shot, but for revisions, I decided to add an intro chapter with Sirius and Remus, for what I hope is a better set-up of Remus' mood and the theme of the story. Many thanks to my awesome beta reader, **Godricgal**

This story follows **Certain Necessary Qualities** in the **Transfigured Hearts **series and is set in the autumn of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix._

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**Part One**

"It's really not that difficult a concept, Moony," Sirius drawled from across the drawing room. "You just throw a pinch of Floo Powder in the damn fireplace, say, _Tonks' Flat_, and _voila_! There you are."

"Actually..." Remus replied without looking away from the fireplace he had, apparently, been staring vacantly into since Tonks' head had disappeared -- he drew his watch from his pocket -- eight minutes ago now. "You'd say, _115 Westbourne Park Terrance, Flat 10_ as you tossed in the pinch of Floo Powder."

"My, my! Aren't we in a proper Prefect Lupin strop?"

Sirius' tone carried Remus back twenty years, and made him picture his mate's mocking expression that was deeply irritating, yet elicited no real ill-feeling, because that look _belonged_ on Padfoot's aristocratic features.

And damn him if ninety-nine per-cent of the time he wasn't bloody _right_.

"When you get sarky about particulars," he said, "it can only mean it's your time of the month. Isn't that why you're mooning about, Moony?"

Drawing his legs up and propping his arms on them, Remus' fringe fell into his eyes as he dropped his head between his knees. "Why the hell did I say I'd go over there?"

"Swearing now? _Tsk, tsk._"

Sirius clucked his tongue, and Remus pictured him shaking his head as he pretended to work the _Daily Prophet_ crossword -- though Remus knew he was really charming the articles to read as libellous stories about Minister Fudge, Dolores Umbridge, and every other Ministry official who offended him. Which was pretty much all of them.

"If I were to hazard a guess," Sirius said, "you agreed to go over because Tonks isn't a half-bad looking bird, and she opened the door wide for you get laid. Which you've still never done, have you?"

Massaging his temples, Remus said, "I meant it to be rhetorical question, not an open door for you to make me feel pathetic."

Parchment crinkled, and cushions rustled as Sirius sat up. Remus turned his head to see Sirius propped up on his elbows, long legs sprawled over the arm of the settee, without consideration for how old and expensive the furniture was. Not that that it wasn't most probably infested with Doxies, and mould, which devalued even the antiques of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

"How long have you known me, Moony?" Sirius asked in that bored tone that made you feel like such a prat that you ignored his condescension and went along with his high and mighty act.

"Twenty-five years."

"I meant it to be a rhetorical question," Sirius mimicked. "But after twenty-five years, you really ought to know I _always_ answer any question that comes my way."

"Because you love to hear yourself talk. _Ow_!"

Rubbing the crown of his head, he looked over his shoulder for the missile -- one of the biscuits Hagrid had baked for Sirius and sent by a rather disgruntled school owl -- and then at Sirius, who was looking at him with an arched eyebrow.

"_Not_ the sort of talk that'll get you laid, Lupin."

"Fortunately for me, I'm not talking to you to get laid."

Sirius snorted, not at all unlike how he'd done that time, long ago, when Regulus had suggested to him that he might stop bullying Severus. "There's no sort of talking you could do to get laid by _me_, mate, I hope you know that."

"Thanks for the reassurance. It's been at the back of my mind, you know -- a fear, keeping me up at night, since you asked me to move in here with you."

"I hope you know as well," said Sirius loudly, as if Remus hadn't spoken, "that though Tonks is right saucy little minx when it comes to Snivellus or Dung or Mad-Eye--"

"Or you."

"--it's the _nice_ blokes she fancies. So if you want her to shag you--"

"Tonks is your _cousin_," Remus interrupted. "Shouldn't you be telling me that if I lay a finger on her, you'll hex me to next week?"

"Her mum's my cousin," Sirius corrected. "I don't know Tonks from any other witch, and anyway, she's an Auror, and Mad-Eye's protégée, and can quite look after herself, I think." His heavy brows sloped sharply downward as he frowned. "Even if she _can't_ walk through the front hall without falling over her own two feet."

"It's the umbrella stand that trips her up in the hall, not her feet."

"Ah, so he'll leap to defend the honour of his lady fair," said Sirius with a sly grin. "Keep it up, Moony! That's definitely the sort of talk that'll get you shagged if you want--

"I don't."

Sirius raised a an eyebrow.

In spite of his preference for keeping cool when Sirius was trying to wind him up, Remus looked away and quickly amended, "Not tonight, anyway."

"Oh, really?"

Remus sighed. Of course Sirius remained sceptical; it was doubtful whether he'd accept it if even if he were privy to the vivid and, undoubtedly, sexy, images that flashed in Remus' mind which, markedly, evoked no further corresponding physical response than a slight flush.

"That's the point," Remus said heavily. "It's 'my time of the month,' as you so juvenilely put it, and I'm simply not up to socialising."

"Is _that_ what they're calling it these days?"

Remus rolled his eyes, but startled slightly when Sirius' feet thudded to the floor when he swung them off the arm of the settee to sit fully upright. From the corridor, Kreacher's perpetual muttering filtered in: _Nasty great blood traitor feet, sullying Mistress' rugs._

"SHUT UP, YOU FILTHY GIT!" Sirius bellowed, whipping out his wand to shut -- and, presumably, imperturb -- the drawing room doors. His grey eyes flicked down to Remus, locking on him with an almost accusatory flash. "Why in bloody hell'd you say you'd go over, then?"

Sighing, Remus dropped his head between his knees again, and raked his fingers through his shaggy hair. Molly had been after him to let her trim it before she and Arthur had moved home. He ought to have let her.

"Because then Tonks would know I'm not up to socialising," he said.

"Ah...I see how it is." The floorboards creaked as Sirius stood, and his joints cracked as he stretched his arms over his head and popped his knuckles. "Can't stand to destroy the fair Auror's illusions about that virile image you project?"

He was mocking him again, but even so Remus shook his head.

The soles of Sirius' bare feet shuffled over the mouldy carpet as he crossed the room to Remus. "Tell you a secret, mate." Bending toward him, he said in a conspiratorial tone, "You've nothing to worry about. You've never projected a virile image."

"With friends like you, who needs Snivellus?" Remus muttered, gazing emptily into the dark, cold fireplace once again. "And I am quite aware, thank you very much, that I am hardly the specimen of manhood James was--"

"Or me!"

"--especially not the day before full moon. I can scarcely believe she'd look at me twice any other time of month. She'd have to be mad to tonight."

"Barking, as you haven't got the help of a great personality!"

It was true, of course, and Remus had always known it. Nonetheless, he'd hoped that when Tonks looked at him she saw more than a thin, peaky man whom hardship had aged before his time, and his heart ached to hear such a notion pronounced impossible. He opened his mouth to tell Sirius to go to hell but, remembering that Sirius had been there, for twelve years, and was likely somewhere close enough to it now, he said only, "Haven't you got a Hippogriff to feed?"

In his peripheral, he saw Sirius' mocking grin fall, his mouth hanging open, jaw slack. Remus knew that if he were to look at Sirius directly, he'd see all the bravado drained from his face as it dawned on him that he was the only one amused by his own talk. The grey eyes would be bent with guilt, darkened with self-recrimination. But Remus didn't look at him. Sirius knew on his own that he'd gone too far, and he felt remorse without Prefect Lupin throwing stones, as well.

"Listen, Moony," Sirius began, then paused to lower his long frame to the hearth rug beside Remus. "First off, you're not pathetic because you haven't got laid."

Remus snorted, and started to tell Padfoot he didn't have to bend over backward to make him feel better, but Sirius talked over him.

"_Sadly overdue_, definitely...but not pathetic."

"You really know how to make a bloke feel better."

"Second: I think you've got this all wrong."

Another pause, and Remus looked sidelong at him to see an almost anxious look of expectation on Sirius' gaunt features.

"You? Think?"

"I _am_ the one who got the reputation of being a genius sat in detention whilst you were only known for being reasonably clever even though you studied your arse off in the library."

"I believe a bit of that studying my arse off in the library paid off when I figured out how to make the Marauder's Map work."

A look of envy crossed Sirius' features for just a second, then he gave a haughty huff and made to stand. "Fine. _Don't_ hear what the genius thinks about your current dilemma. Especially when he's the one who cultivated a head-turning arse."

"Enlighten me, O genius," said Remus, with a deferential wave of his hand.

Grinning, Sirius turned to face him. "Right. So if you learnt anything at all from how the Marauders' full moon adventures made you feel, you'd know that this time of the month -- call me juvenile, Moony, I dare you -- is the last time you need to be antisocial."

He stopped and gave Remus a moment to digest that; and Remus couldn't deny Sirius _did_ make a rather good case -- until he gave him a nudge toward the fireplace.

"So get you're your sorry studied-off arse over there and get laid, mate! Unwind. Say as little as possible. Feel like a sex god." His eyes flicked over him, and all his guilt couldn't stop a rakish half-grin from forming. "Well -- demigod, maybe."

"I'll show you who's demigod" Remus whipped out his wand. "_Cauda canis cresco!_"

"BLOODY BUGGERING HELL!" Sirius launched into the air, clutching at his posterior, as a bushy black dog's tail burst through the seat of his trousers.

Before Sirius get could get at his wand, Remus fired off another quick spell that changed Sirius' hands into great paws.

"Why you sodding--! _Expelliarm_--!"

"_Vox latro!_" Remus roared, and the last syllable of Sirius' desperate attempt at a wandless spell came out a dog's bark.

Though Sirius' eyes were still his own sharp grey ones, there was definitely a hint of the puppy-dog about them as he tried to speak again, only to produce a yip. Then he tried to glare, but when Remus crossed his arms smugly and smirked, Sirius rolled over on the rug, head thrown back to let out a series of barks that were not at all a far cry from his human laugh; a paw and his tail beat a fevered counterpoint on the floor as tears of mirth squeezed out.

"I'll give you your own voice back," said Remus cooly, "if you'll take back that bollocks about demigods."

Sirius nodded, and Remus undid the spells.

His barking laugh rang out as he pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning against the hearth.

"You, Moony," he panted, "are a veritable _god_ among wizards."

"Thanks."

Remus conjured a dog biscuit and tossed it in the air -- and Sirius actually threw back his head and caught it in his mouth.

"Seriously, mate," he said, chewing.

"I can't believe you're eating that."

"Twelve years of Azkaban swill, mate, and another of rats. Dog biscuits are practically gourmet, and _this _is _exactly_ what you should go over to Tonks'."

"Because I can conjure dog biscuits?"

"You look a hell of a lot better now than you did five minutes ago, but you're right, I _have_ got a Hippogriff to feed, and you'll just get broody again about tomorrow night if you stay down here alone. _But_, if you distract yourself by showing off that impressive spellwork to a pretty pink-haired witch--"

"I'm not going to make her sprout a tail."

"No, but she'll make _yours_ wag--_ARF!_"

This time, it was a yip more suited to a Chihuahua than Sirius' Animagus form. He looked at Remus and whined; although high-pitched and screechy, the sound was music to Remus' ears.

"I've a mind to leave you like that all night, to teach you a lesson."

_Buckbeak_, Sirius mouthed, though of course it came out as another yip.

"No, he won't much like it," said Remus. "Which ought to really drive the message home to you."

"_ARF_!" said Sirius, mouthing _please_.

Remus sighed. "Do you solemnly swear not to make any more innuendos?"

Hand over his heart, Sirius nodded vigorously, and barked for good measure.

Undoing the hex, Remus spoke before Sirius could. "Now, _sans__innuendo_: why should I go over to Tonks' tonight?"

"Cos she's sure to distract you pleasantly from your furry little problem, even if that doesn't involve you getting laid."

Suddenly curious, Remus asked, "Why are you so sure Tonks has that in mind?"

"Did she ask you to go over and do anything?"

"Nothing specific, no."

"Then why are you so bloody sure Tonks _hasn't_ got that in mind?"

Holding his wand loosely between weary fingers, he leant back against a chair, resting his head on the seat cushion. "I just can't keep up tonight."

"That's a virgin talking," said Sirius. "You'd be surprised how little encouragement's needed to keep things up--" His hands shot up to shield his face when Remus raised his wand. "You can't punish me, Moony, when you set it up so brilliantly!"

Remus didn't lower his wand. "Do you have anything helpful to say, Padfoot, or shall I encourage you again to go feed Buckbeak?"

"I've got a serious point to make, yeah."

"I'd say you've been making Sirius points all night."

"This is why I use so much innuendo. To spare us from god-awful puns like that."

"How many times have _you_ made that very same god-awful pun?"

"S'different when it's me punning on my own name." Sirius swatted Remus' wand. "Put that thing away so I can play the role of the rational best mate and get you out of this house and into that flat, where you belong."

As Remus pocketed his wand, he contemplated Sirius' line of thought. He was right about distraction being in order if he had a prayer of not brooding over his impending transformation. But did he really _belong_ anywhere, least of all at Tonks', at a time like this?

Sirius' hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Remus turned to see the grey eyes as sincere as the night he'd vowed to learn Animagery so he wouldn't have to endure his transformations alone.

"If Tonks goes off of you because you're a tired old curmudgeon," he said, quietly, "then she's not worth it anyway. You'd do better to find out now than after you've fallen madly in love with her." His thick black brows knit heavily together as if a sudden thought had occurred. "You're not already, are you?"

"In love?"

"Yeah."

"Padfoot," said Remus tightly, "I've taken her out her _once_."

"And snogged in the street and quarrelled. Lots of people fall in love with less between them.

A laugh rose, but Remus forced himself not to give into it, because Sirius wasn't joking. In the case of their group of mates, it was certainly true. James had fallen in love with Lily from first sight and never wavered; Sirius was always madly in love with girls until he actually went out with them, only to promptly fall out of it; and Peter fell for any female who looked his way, even if it was to hex him.

Remus had always expected that he would fall somewhere in between his friends' extremes; but as his luck would have it, even though he'd fancied quite a lot of girls, and had gone out with a few, none of them had made him feel anything remotely like James' single-minded certainty that Lily was The One and Only For Him, or Sirius' head-over-heels passion, or, thank God, not whatever in Merlin's name it was Peter felt, so that theory had gone untested. From time to time he felt left out of the business which, for everyone else, it seemed, made the world go round. At other times, he thought that perhaps it was the one instance of fate being kind to him: keeping that door shut, lest his heart be swept out and away from him, along with everything else that had been taken from him.

"I'm pushing forty years old--"

"Thirty-five's not bloody _pushing forty!"_

"--and have never fallen in love," Remus continued. "I think I can be reasonably sure that if I ever do, it shall be for a good deal more than one date, a snog in the street, and a quarrel. And I'd hope to be fairly certain the young lady in question won't go off of me because I'm a tired old curmudgeon."

Sirius looked at him for a long time, as if he didn't believe him, then he said, shrugging, "You'd better see to it, then, cos believe you me, this place is depressing enough without a lovelorn werewolf moping about."

"I solemnly swear not to make the Nasty and Most Odious House of Black even more depressing by turning into a lovelorn werewolf."

"That _sounds_ well and good, but lovelorn or not, you're still moping about and making this sodding house more depressing."

"I--"

The end of Sirius' wand jabbed Remus between two vertebrae, making him sit up straight. Then, magically prodded, his frame was unfolding and he was on his feet without willing himself to stand.

"You know, Padfoot, you've done an admirable job chasing rabbit trails tonight, but this isn't about falling in love and protecting my fragile heart."

"What's it about, then?"

Remus' watch and a few odd coins jangled in his trouser pockets as he shoved his hands into them and looked down at Sirius. "Ego. Pure, unadulterated male ego. Even _you've _got to admit you'd rather the vivacious young Auror you fancied didn't get to see you peaky and ill and not in the mood."

"Moony, Moony, Moony." Sirius screwed his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he'd been stricken with a sudden headache. "This is why _I'm _the genius." He pushed himself up off the floor. "When life hands you lemons, you've got to make Firewhisky." Ignoring Remus' arched eyebrow, he went on, "Learn to work these furry little inconveniences to your advantage."

"How do you propose I do that?"

For a split second, Sirius wore a look that said he hadn't any proposal in mind, but then the uncertain look vanished. "Women love to play Healer. Tonks would probably get a kick out of morphing her hair to match the robes."

It was all Remus could do not to gawp and give Padfoot the satisfaction. Slowly -- and, he hoped, with maddening calm -- he said, "We're supposed to go from snogging in the street to role playing, are we?"

Sirius glared. "Get her to feed you grapes...rub your back...kiss it better..._cuddle_. She'll think you're in touch with your feminine side, and you'll never be able to shake her off."

"Hmm."

"_Hmm_?"

"I'm not sure that would spare you living with a lovelorn werewolf."

"Why the bloody hell not?"

Side-stepping Sirius and strolling casually toward the drawing room door, Remus said, "Remember when you made Belinda Peakes believe you were in touch with your feminine side?"

He looked over his shoulder to smirk, and was rewarded to see just the reaction he'd hoped for.

"You're looking a little green around the gills, Padfoot. Not ill at the memory of dear Belinda, are you?"

"Get the hell out of here, Moony," said Sirius, pulling himself together. "I mean it, the only thing you can do to be pathetic is to let this opportunity slip through your..._Pedis lupos!_"

Remus' wand clattered to the floor as his hand turned into a shaggy grey paw.

He glowered at Sirius, who grinned like a git. "Do you really think that's appropriate when the very reason we're having this little chat is because I dread being in this state tomorrow night?"

"Nope. But you know I get along with Appropriate about as well as I get along with Snivellus." He laughed loudly at his own joke, and Remus couldn't help but chuckle along. "Now, then, if I give you your hands back, will you promise to go straight over to Dora's domicile?"

"No."

"Then I--"

"I'll go straight over to Tonks' flat after I've changed into clothing slightly more befitting a god among wizards."

Sirius Howled. "Now _there's_ talk that'll get you laid."

Remus gave him a look that killed Sirius' laughter.

"Not by me, of course."

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_**A/N: Thank you for reading. I'd love to know what you think. As incentive, reviewers get their very own Remus, to prove what a God Among Wizards he is. ;) **_


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

A half-hour later, dressed in pressed trousers and shirt, the frayed hems and cuffs tidily mended, a brown jumper he knew Tonks liked which was less misshapen from wear than his others and hadn't been darned at the elbows _too _many times, and a whiff of Gilded Heart cologne (Gilderoy Lockhart's line, of course) which he had only worn because Sirius had planted it in his bathroom cupboard and charmed to attack and spritz him (and also not to wash off), Remus stepped out of Tonks' fireplace and into her lounge.

He found her curled on her side on her squashy, second-hand couch, wearing a navy blue hooded sweatshirt which, though evidently several sizes too big for her, looked extremely comfortable, with a pair of red jogging trousers, though her drooping eyelids indicated that the very last thing she wanted to do while wearing them involved actual exercise.

"Dare I ask how work was?" Remus asked, his voice a little choked -- not with concern, but because he'd noticed that the front of her sweatshirt was emblazoned with something that resembled a checkmark and the slogan _Just Do It_. Which, in light of his discussion with the owner of Grimmauld Place, it struck him as entirely suggestive, and gave him the very wild thought that Sirius must have Flooed his cousin and told her to wear it as a subliminal message. Even if he had not done..._Damn him anyway_.

"Murder," Tonks replied, heavily.

It took Remus a moment to drag his mind from Tonks' sweatshirt slogan and Sirius winding him up to register that she was answering his question about her day, and not suggesting he murder Sirius. Which seemed a pretty good idea, though, now he thought of it...

"But done now," she said, giving him a weary smile, "and I'm not on call tonight, _thank Merlin_. Only got home an hour ago, and since then I've done nothing but lie here and Summon things."

As Remus dusted himself off, looking around the lounge, he wondered why he'd worked himself into such a flap about coming over when he was tired. It was shameful, really, that he'd been so concerned about himself, when every member of the Order of the Phoenix battled the exhaustion that came with living a double life. He knew Tonks had come off of back-to-back shifts at the Ministry after a night duty for the Order. No wonder she'd crashed. Likely she could've closed her eyes and kipped on her couch for a straight week without stirring -- yet she'd invited him over.

His mind boggled. What did it mean? Surely she knew he didn't expect her to sacrifice the rest she needed so desperately for him. He'd keep.

A voice at the back of his mind whispered that she might need this more than sleep; she might need to _unwind_, as Sirius had put it, before she could sleep.

Remus' brain travelled back to the first war, when he and his mates would meet up whenever they all four happened to be off-duty, even if they were dead on their feet, and he'd never once regretted it. It had been so long ago, but now he thought of it, he could recall a distinct feeling of being energised, of satisfaction deep within where he had been bone tired, from spending a few hours with the people he loved.

Could Tonks feel that way after an evening with him?

No, it was impossible, and the scene around him suggested it would be a well nigh insurmountable task to restore anything like energy to this place, or to its owner. Tonks' baggy clothing gave her a wilted look; even the ordinarily jaunty pink spikes were squashed flat against her head, but for the odd strand standing stubbornly upright.

The coffee table, pulled flush against the sofa, was strewn with takeaway containers, bags of crisps, a couple of crunched, empty, Fizzy Pumpkin cans, a half-drunk bottle of Firewhisky, and a small mountain of Honeydukes chocolate wrappers (and discarded, presumably duplicate, Famous Wizard cards). Under the side table, Tonks' Auror robes, boots, and other clothes -- including a red bra that matched her uniform -- lay in a crumpled heap.

Remus had a little difficulty breathing as a swell in his throat cut off the flow of air to his lungs, and he felt light-headed, fixated on the singular thought that Tonks had stripped off her clothes and changed _right here_. And most probably, though it was impossible to tell in the voluminous, fleecy sweatshirt, _wasn't wearing a bra_.

Frightened of where these thoughts were leading, particularly due to Sirius' voice uttering the phrase _get laid _ringing in his ears with the slogan of Tonks' shirt, Remus dragged his gaze from the discarded bra to the pink plastic bowl which Tonks, having rolled onto her back, now balanced on her stomach and was rifling through with a look of intese concentration. She turned her head and grinned at him as she held up a Chocolate Frog.

"When I got to dessert, that's when I decided to Floo you. Thought it was right chocoholic of me to indulge alone."

She tossed it to him, and as he reflexively raised his arm and opened his hand to catch it, he very nearly missed when he noticed Tonks' dark eyes sweeping over him, taking in every detail of his appearance.

"You look handsome," she said, and sniffed. "Smell nice, too. S'that Gilded Heart?"

"Unfortunately," said Remus, trying -- unsuccessfully -- not to blush. He shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets and leant his shoulder against the side of the mantel. "Sirius ordered it for me -- a very belated birthday gift. Or a birthday _lark_, rather, as he thinks it wildly hysterical that my predecessor at Hogwarts has a cologne line."

Tonks smothered a laugh. "Well, what do you expect from the five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's _Most-Charming-Smile Award?"

"I tried to throw it out, empty the bottle, obliterate it, anything -- but either Lockhart patented it to be completely indestructible, or Sirius had a hunch I wouldn't want it and has worked up a useful little spell to make it plague me forever."

Giggling, Tonks hugged the throw pillow under her head. "I'd bank on option B."

"So would I."

"But I think you'd better just settle for coming over here, so I can smell your Gilded Heart."

As she sat up slightly, stretching her arms over her head, and made room on the sofa, she flashed Remus a smile he had to return, and which melted away his self-consciousness. Except, of course, for the very pleasant kind of self-consciousness that accompanied the scarcely believable thought that a pretty pink-haired girl thought he was handsome. He stepped out of his shoes without bothering to unlace them and, with a surreptitious glance at the toes of his socks to make sure they weren't holey, he crossed the small lounge.

Grabbing a handful of chocolates from the bowl, he leant in to plant a brief hello kiss on the tip of her nose, then flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa from her, leaning back against the arm. For a moment he struggled to arrange his legs comfortably without putting his feet on her. Tonks flicked her wand to elongate the couch, which jostled a side table and sent a lamp crashing to the floor. Remus cast a quick _Reparo _as she cringed, then, tangling his feet with her fuzzy stripy sock-clad ones, heaved a sigh of satisfaction he felt deep in his bones.

He was just as entitled as anyone to be tired, and likely no one, not even Tonks, gave it a second thought. Or if they did, no one likely attributed his fatigue to the waxing moon. He was just a normal bloke -- if Order members qualified as normal, that was -- with a chance for one of the few and far-between moments he could snatch with his girlfriend, who had far too much on her mind to think about lunar cycles. It was a good arrangement.

"Good job I gave up on Chocoholics Anonymous at Step One," he joked, popping a Frog into his mouth, "or you'd have to deal with the guilt of making him fall off the bandwagon.

Tonks' eyes, which had been droopy and drowsy, lit up, dancing the same tempo as his insides.

"S'where I got tripped up, too. Couldn't see how being powerless over chocolate was a problem for a Metamorphmagus who doesn't have to worry about tummy bulge, flabby hips, or spots."

"No, you do have rather an edge on the substance," said Remus. "I know it certainly makes my life _more_ manageable than it is without."

The bite he'd just taken went down the wrong tube, choking him, as he had a panicky thought about having inadvertently drawn attention to...he couldn't get Sirius' voice out of his head saying _his time of the month._

But Tonks only laughed, dark eyes squinty and impish. "Don't know as I'd call choking _manageable_. Sure that isn't meant to be your wake-up call from a Higher Power?"

The paroxysm of coughs was worsened by his laughter, and prevented Remus from teasing her back. He settled for wadding up the foil sweet wrapper and flicking it at her face. It struck her squarely in her high, porcelain forehead.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," he managed to croak.

Tonks' eyes flashed, never leaving his as her hand dove into the sweet bowl.

A proper duel commenced, complete with stockpiles of ammunition and improvisational spellwork to attack each other from unexpected directions or with multiple bits of chocolate wrapper. Laughter banished Remus' broody thoughts about tomorrow's impending transformation to the farthest reaches of his mind, except to make a mental note to make an extra effort to cheer up Sirius' confinement for urging him out of the house when it must have been so tempting to keep him around for company. Or harassing.

Although, he wondered if Sirius would consider it a success that he'd only managed to get Remus distracted by The 1995 Hogwarts Alumni Inter-House Honeydukes Wrapper Flicking Cup rather than Long Overdue First Shag. Especially when he and Tonks quickly spent their energy resources and resorted to fighting the old fashioned way: flicking bits of wrapper off their knees with their wands.

This went on for a lazy, quiet hour, and Remus would have been quite content to let the night slip away in this fashion, nothing on his mind but silliness, no words passing between them but frivolous ones. But then Tonks' legs, radiating warmth from within her soft cotton trousers which he felt through the worn fabric of his own, drew up against her chest as she sat more upright.

"Let's play a game."

She was looking at him intently, as if something more than frivolity had been at the back of her mind all along. _Did Tonks ask you to go over and do anything? _Sirius had asked. Remus' stomach churn at the idea. Or maybe he'd simply eaten too much chocolate. He could leave early, crying indigestion -- not that that would do more for his image than lycanthropy.

"I'd thought this was a game." He flicked another wrapper at her.

Tonks waved her wand and transfigured the gleaming tinfoil into a shimmering translucent bubble.

"I thought it was a _war_," she countered, eyebrow arched.

Chuckling, Remus bowed his head slightly in deference. When the sofa cushions shifted, he looked up to see Tonks changing positions, sitting up on her knees, then scooting toward him. Once again, his heart leapt into his throat as he watched his own knees straighten out as her thighs slipped over either side of his legs, straddling him. He clutched at the bowl of sweets on his lap, stopping it from toppling over when she bumped it.

"A war," she said, "or acting like a couple of silly school kids who don't know how to flirt except to torment each other."

Did she realize how alluring she looked when she teased? How drawn he was to the sexy curve of her lips? How that mischievous gleam in her eyes made him want to kiss her eyelids and feel the tickle of her long lashes against his chin?

_Just Do It_, said her shirt.

His hands slid from the bowl -- which was a bit slick from his palms sweating as he clutched it -- and covered her smaller, slender hands. "You started it."

He felt her arms quiver ever so slightly, and glanced down to see gooseflesh had prickled up on the pale skin of her exposed wrists, making the fine hairs rise. She pulled away and tugged the cuffs of her sweatshirt down over her hands, then crossed her arms over her chest.

"Did not."

Trying not to think about the position of her hands, or, more precisely, what she wasn't wearing under that sweatshirt, Remus barely remembered to say, "Did too."

"I Never."

"As a mater of fact, you just--"

"No -- I mean the game is _I Never_."

Remus considered this for a moment. "The drinking game?"

Tonks' gaze darted sideways, fringe falling over her forehead, and she gave a small laugh as she bit her lower lip. "Or you know, we could play Exploding Snap. Or even Exploding Snape if you'd prefer."

Had he made her think he thought her suggestion was silly?

"I haven't got the Exploding Snape cards on me, I'm afraid. Sirius wanted to play a few hands with Buckbeak. And we don't really want to drag Severus into this, do we? I mean, he hasn't got washed hair, much less Gilded Heart cologne."

To his chagrin, the joke didn't appear to have relieved her self-consciousness.

"We can play I Never," he said, touching her arm, stroking the fabric of her sweatshirt between his fingers.

She looked at him again, with something like relief, but her voice was still unsure as she said, "I just thought it might be more interesting and personal than cards..."

"Also I trounced you last time we played Snape. Although..." He raised an eyebrow and adopted his best suspicious expression, making a show of scrutinising hers. "Are you trying to get revenge by drinking me under the table? Only I'm rather a lightweight, especially the night before..."

He left the sentence dangling for a moment, and now it was _his_ eyes that darted sidelong as his fringe fell into his face. An inner voice told him to get on with it, to just finish the bloody thought already. He didn't normally shy away from this subject; he could recall countless occasions of dropping the word _werewolf, _casually, into conversations.

Of course, when he'd half-joked to Harry and the Order about werewolves not being popular dinner guests, he hadn't yet been going out with Tonks. Anyway, acknowledging the inescapable truth of what he was, and harping on the more graphic aspects of what he was in front of the woman whom he wished would find him attractive -- and who became quite emotional about certain of those aspects -- were two altogether different things.

"Who said I Never had to be a drinking game?" Tonks asked, a defiant note in her voice drawing his eyes. "We could eat chocolates." She leaned in to him and said, "Or snog."

Remus blinked, then felt a grin stretch. He couldn't have made himself _too_ unattractive to her if she was cooking up games as an excuse to pass an evening kissing. For some reason he liked the thought of her being yet too shy to suggest it outright and, brushing her hair out of her face, dipped his head to touch his lips to hers.

"Seeing as we've been eating chocolates for the better part of an hour," he said, "I vote for the second option."

"Me, too," said Tonks, squirming a little on his lap before she scooted back to the other end of the sofa. "In a landslide election, I Never: Snogging Edition wins! Though -- I wouldn't mind a little wine, as well, to unwind before bed."

"Firewhiskyed out?" Remus asked, eyeing the bottle on the coffee table as he tried not to feel too disappointed that she'd vacated his lap.

"No, I'm just looking out for you since you said you're a lightweight."

Remus shot her a playful glare. "Only right before..."

Tonks arched an eyebrow, clearly expecting him to complete the sentence. But the words stuck in Remus' throat.

Thankfully, she bailed him out.

"Right," she said with a snort. "I'll believe that when Pigmy Puffs fly."

She'd started to get up, but in one swift movement that was a rather remarkable feat for him this close to transformation, Remus stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder and got to his feet.

"Please, allow me?"

Tonks flashed him a smile that made his stomach, and indeed, all his insides, take a dive not unlike the navel-gripping sensation of travelling by Portkey. In fact, when he found himself stood in her kitchen a moment later, and didn't remember his feet touching the ground, picking their way around her clutter to get there, he wondered if he actually _had_ got there that way.

One thing, though, he was absolutely sure of: that the pink-haired young witch sprawled on the sofa, telling him which cupboard held her wine goblets and directing him to the proper shelf of her larder, was worth every grey hair he'd added to his head fretting over how to proceed with her. Even more, he needn't fret at all -- at least not over whether he should lock his tired old curmudgeon self away from her prior to transformation. He'd done her an injustice, he saw now, in worrying that she would think less of him for something so superficial.

And Sirius was right; the physical effects _were_ lessened when he was carrying on as usual, enjoying himself. Or at least, he was less aware of them. He ought to have remembered from his Marauder days.

Turning back to the lounge, wine goblets in hand, he felt a rush of new affection for Tonks that, after so many lonely, difficult years, she'd given him the chance to get reacquainted with his former self. He was a good four years from forty, after all. He had _decades_ to go before he qualified as a proper old curmudgeon.

Handing her a glass of wine, and earning another of those smiles that made him feel disembodied, he said, "Why don't you do the honours of taking the first turn?"

She giggled, and wore a very pleased expression as she tucked her legs underneath her. "Cos I'm a lady?"

Seating himself close beside her, stretching his free hand behind her on the back of the sofa, Remus felt himself come back to earth. Well -- as close to earth as he could with her head on his shoulder, pink tufts of hair tickling his jaw.

"And because it's been much longer since I played I Never, and I don't remember the rules," he said.

"You say you've never done something, and then if either of us has done it, we take a drink."

"And kiss the other."

Tonks smiled. "Right."

"It's coming back to me now. Not terribly complex."

"I think maybe it usually seems more complex because when most people play it they're already two sheets to the wind."

"Maybe we ought to have a full glass before we get started. For authenticity's sake."

Toasting all the things they'd never done, and the kissing they were about to do, they drained their glasses.

"Okay," said Tonks, drawing her feet up to sit cross-legged facing him as Remus refilled their goblets. "I never fell asleep in History of Magic."

They raised their glasses to their lips and drank, but as Remus moved to kiss her, Tonks held back, one eyebrow quirked.

"Well, well," she said, "Prefect Lupin wasn't a total swot after all."

"When am I going to get it through to you that I was the worst Prefect in Hogwarts history, and a perfectly average student?" Touching his lips to hers, he murmured, "Apart, of course, from my involvement in some pretty ingenious pranks and of course the Marauder's Map, the brilliance of which will never be matched, even by Messrs Weasley and Weasley."

Pulling back from him, Tonks rolled her eyes. "Great arrogant git."

Chuckling, Remus said, "I never impersonated a professor."

Tonks scowled as she drank and kissed him.

"Who?" Remus asked.

"Who didn't I impersonate would be a better question."

"I'm sensing a good story or two. Care to share?"

"All information must be divulged in the form of _I Never_," said Tonks, "and _I_ never fancied a Quidditch player."

That boded well for him, Remus thought, when she neither drank nor kissed him. Not that he didn't wish she would kiss him anyway. Maybe pale, scrawny types _were _more to her taste than the athletic eldest Weasley boys Molly had hinted at wanting to fix Tonks up with before _he _asked her out.

Except that, as he pulled away from kissing her, Tonks stared at him with a jaw dropped in disbelief.

"_You_ fancied a Quidditch player?" she asked.

Brushing aside the niggling thought that this implied she did _not_, after all,think he was a fine specimen of manhood, Remus shrugged. "I realised that since I'm rubbish with girls, it was not, perhaps, the wisest choice to go out with a girl who walloped a mean Beater's bat."

"I don't believe that," said Tonks, laughing.

"No really, Jocasta Jewkes was one hell of a Beater. Went on to play for the Harpies--"

"I mean I don't believe you were ever rubbish with girls," Tonks interrupted. For a moment her gaze was intent on her fingers as she picked at the crooked seam of her sock, but then the lovely dark eyes peered shyly up at him through her lashes. "You're not rubbish with _this_ girl anyway."

Remus leaned in for a kiss, but he was held back by her fingers pressing against his chest.

"You've got to say _I never_ to get a kiss, remember?"

Pushing against her, Remus nipped playfully at the soft bit of her neck just behind her ear. "I never stopped a bloke from kissing me when I wanted him to."

Snorting as though with repressed laughter, Tonks said, "I've never been kissed -- or wanted to be kissed -- by someone of my gender."

Remus drew back and looked at her, blinking. Then, noticing her raised eyebrow, her meaning dawned on him, and a flush bloomed on his neck and cheeks.

"I..."

He got no further, his mouth dry. Oh Merlin. He'd thought nothing could be worse than her thinking him feeble, infirm, but this...Sirius would laugh his arse off if he were here.

"I'm half-tempted to do a Memory Charm to prevent you ever sharing that with your cousin."

Tonks waggled her eyebrows, somehow looking frighteningly like Sirius. "Just making sure after that rather unfortunately worded sentence. Here's my real one: I never went out with anyone that wasn't in my House."

They both drank, but before they could kiss, Tonks asked, "Who?"

Setting his wine on the coffee table, Remus reached for her, hooking his hands at the small of her back. "Why -- you."

Tonks' look of pleasure as she tilted her heart-shaped face up to his made Remus feel the same way. "You're my first non-Hufflepuff, as well."

"Fancy that," he murmured.

They shared a sweeter kiss then they had up to this point, though as they prolonged it, passion, without his being quite aware of it happening, mounted. He felt her shift as his hands, which had slipped downward over the backs of her hips, drew her into his lap. For a moment, he revelled in the feel of her curves beneath his palms, her knees pressed against his as he held her closer against him, tasting the wine she'd drunk, thinking it was so much more intoxicating on her lips...

His eyes snapped open with the sudden realisation of what a bold move he'd made, and then, over her shoulder, he _saw _his bold move to her bottom. Nonchalantly as he could manage, he slid his hands up to her back and forced his pell-mell instincts to kiss her less franticly until he could break the kiss without seeming abrupt. Her beautifully flushed face and neck, her velvet eyes, her red, swollen lips, made it very difficult for him to summon the willpower to extract himself from their intimate position.

"Well," he said huskily, looking around the flat, reacquainting himself with his local, before reaching for their wine glasses. "Where were we in our little game?"

"I've never slept with anyone."

She'd never...?

_Oh...dear... _

If Tonks' rounded eyes, and her hand clapped over her gaping mouth were any indication, the same thought had just crossed her mind.

"Oh God," she whispered, her slim white fingers creeping upward to cover her reddening face. "I didn't mean...I don't know why I said that..._Oh God_, it wasn't even my bloody turn!"

Remus couldn't remember ever feeling more awfully for another person, or of wanting more to relieve her embarrassment. He couldn't help but think that, at the root, he was to blame for her slip-up. His wandering hands had led her mind down..._that_...path, a path with which she clearly felt uncomfortable. It was up to him to make this right, and the solution lay within the very hands that had made it all wrong.

With his free hand, he reached out and gently pried Tonks' fingers away from her face. He gave her hand a squeeze and then deliberately set his wine glass once more on the coffee table.

Tonks stared, and though Remus felt heat prickling up from his collar, and he felt far too warm in the jumper layered over his shirt, he was just relieved to see some of the blush fading from her face.

"Do..." She swallowed, and tried again. "D'you mean, you...?"

Her cheek flamed again.

Remus gave her hand, which had gone slack and clammy in his, another reassuring squeeze. Wanting to look away, yet somehow unable to do it, he said, very quietly, "I've never slept with anyone, either."

He expected to feel his face burn, but the sensation never came. He watched the embarrassment drain from Tonks' features, replaced with her usual fair complexion, which glowed with the vibrancy of her spirit. Warmth stole all through him with a pleasant tingle which might have been the wine -- though as her eyes smiled at him just before their lips touched, he thought again that it was _her_ he was drunk on, _her_ he couldn't get enough of...

Yet as they kissed, his senses swam with a sense of _newness_. He'd kissed her dozens of times over the course of the past few weeks, and though she felt familiar to him, it was as if this was some new variety of Tonks he had yet to acquaint himself with.

Carefully, almost tentatively, he moved his lips over hers, traced light patterns over her cheek with his fingertips.

_She was so young. _

The difference in their ages -- not the numbers so much as the life experience they represented -- had given him pause before he'd given in to his longing to ask her to go out with him. Now, though the confirmation of her virginity brought a new aspect of her youth into their relationship, Remus could think of it in no other way than as an equalizer. They were embarking on this journey as novices; neither possessed more knowledge than the other.

And, he couldn't help but think, Tonks had no one to compare him to.

"Why haven't you?"

Her question pulled him so suddenly from his thoughts, from their kiss, that he felt a little wrong-footed. Which was strange, considering he was sitting...

"Why haven't I...? Oh. Slept with anyone..."

He swallowed. In spite of those thoughts about equal ground, he squirmed inwardly. Releasing her hand, he reached up to tug at the hair at the base of his neck, squeezing it between his fingers. Why hadn't he slept with anyone? A number of vague, half-baked answers formed in his mind, along with Sirius' voice in his head chanting, like mantra, _Not pathetic, overdue,_ with the emphasis falling on _pathetic. _He tried not to see at the slogan on her shirt, but it drew his eyes like a Summoning Spell: _Just Do It_. Tempting, but...

No.

He could not _just do it_.

It just wasn't that simple.

Drawing back from her, he said grouchily, "I thought the rules of this game required all information to be divulged in the form of _I Never_."

Tonks' face fell, and immediately Remus felt the familiar weight of failure drop onto him.

Merlin. He'd really done it now.

This wasn't a good time...He wasn't in top form, physically, and his emotions were unbuttoned as a result...The wine, lowering his inhibitions, couldn't have helped...

_Damn. _

"I'm sorry," Tonks said, "I--"

"No."

Remus wanted to take her hands that were twisting the tasselled edge of a throw blanket draped over the back of the settee, but restrained because it was his bloody hands that had got them in this mess in the first place. He slid backward on the sofa and leant against the arm. He dragged his fingers through his hair and let out a deep breath as he pondered his next course of words. At any rate, he needed to soften his voice. Because cutting her off like that, rather sharply, in the middle of her apology, hadn't wiped that look off her face that said she was convinced she'd said or done something that would end the world.

"It's all right." He managed the tone, at least, even if it wasn't really, truly, an area he was all right discussing.

Though why _wasn't_ he all right discussing it? Because he'd just been struck with an answer that was honest, not pathetic, and one he certainly needn't feel ashamed of.

"I suppose," he said, "I just never met anyone I really wanted to do it with."

"Oh," said Tonks, and then, looking embarrassed again, as if she was afraid _oh _had been the wrong thing to say, went on, with a little too much enthusiasm, "I mean, great! That's cool. Me, too."

She gave a wobbly smile, which Remus returned, just as shakily. Apparently it was enough to give Tonks the confidence to be a little more forthright.

"Only I'd wondered..." Her eyes flicked just over his shoulder as she hugged her knees to her chest. "...if it had anything to do with what you said about not thinking you could marry. But don't listen to me," she went on, in a breathless rush, "I'm a bit tipsy, and my mind makes completely daft connections when I'm tipsy. S'why I don't drink much. Hell, I'm bad enough when I'm not tipsy. In training Mad-Eye always said I was most likely to arrive at crazy theories whilst on a case..."

But _wasn't _there a connection?

Remus had never had any interest in the sort of casual relationships Sirius thrived on, and encouraged him to try; fancying a girl, going through the agony of working up the nerve to ask her out, dealing with the mess of the inevitable end...It was all far too like the relentless cycle he went through each month. _Too much effort_ -- especially when he had the added trouble of figuring out how to tell a girl he was a werewolf. If a girl were to inspire the sort of feelings James had for Lily, maybe it would be worth it. But he'd never met anyone who stirred that sort of passion in him.

_What about tonight? _a quiet inner voice asked.

He ignored it.

"I suppose in a way it _has _had to do with those things," said Remus hoarsely, and without meaning to speak, scarcely believing he was actually voicing the thought. "I wouldn't feel right going very far with a woman who didn't know what I am, and I've never known a woman I felt comfortable enough with to tell."

Tonks said nothing, but merely looked at him with those large, expressive dark eyes. Remus didn't dare look into them. She must think he was a coward, and a sorry excuse for a Gryffindor. After all, he hadn't even told _her _what he was -- no thanks to the _Daily Prophet_.

_Overdue, not pathetic_. Wasn't it pathetic that he was so overdue?

Waiting for the right person was all very well for Tonks, not quite twenty-three, only just embarking on the career she'd been so focused on attaining whilst the friends she'd attended school with got married and started families. By now she must know what -- or whom -- she wanted, and whatever -- or whomever -- she wanted, she would find, and attain, with absolute ease.

He, on the other hand, was on the wrong side of thirty-five, for Merlin's sake, and had no prospects. Nor had he looked -- which, Sirius, for all this recent nice talk about not being pathetic, had pointed out on a daily basis in the old days.

_You're such a loser, Moony. You never go to the trouble of asking girls to have a drink, to go dancing. And even when you __**do**__ get the balls to do it, you're heart's never in it. Why won't you give anyone a chance? Stop being such a bloody great __**coward**__. You're a Gryffindor, damn it! _

Remus would be the first person to admit he was a coward, but when it came to romance, he'd never been sure that cowardice had as much to do with it as simple sheer laziness. If he'd learnt anything from James, it was that those kinds of relationships, even if you _had_ been struck by Cupid's arrow and suffered permanent spell damage, were damned hard work. In the best of times the task would have been daunting; but in the height of the war -- and in those days there had been no Wolfsbane Potion -- the mere thought of trying to fit a woman into his life had been both terrifying and, at the most basic level, _exhausting_.

Weren't those reasons, well, _reasonable_?

No, Sirius -- and James, as well -- had said. They were _excuses_, and not even good ones, and he was being a stupid, stubborn git about a furry, but perfectly manageable, and very little, problem.

When Remus asked Tonks out, Molly Weasley had gushed, but to Sirius, it was as if the fourteen years between this and Remus' last date hadn't passed. Padfoot had looked bored, arched a sceptical black eyebrow, and asked whether he was going to be a stupid git about his furry little problem. He was a little more optimistic now that Remus was still kissing Tonks a little more than two months later, but now Remus asked himself what was different this time? His circumstances hadn't changed; with the exception of his romantic life, his future looked bleaker than it ever had, thanks to the bloody Umbridge.

"Reckon that's one good thing about getting your name in the _Prophet _so much?" Tonks' lilting voice broke into his brooding. "It's saved you the bother of having to tell girls?"

She was teasing, of course, but in the morose frame of mind he was in, even her dancing eyes failed to make him see the humour of it.

"Indeed," he snorted, "of ever having to meet anyone at all."

Immediately he regretted saying it, as another wave of awkward apologies tumbled for Tonks' mouth. "Bloody hell, I'm not saying anything right tonight...Stupid wine..."

Again, guilt made it impossible for him to allow her to continue apologising for things she hadn't done, and he cut her off.

And did what he ought to have done before.

He stood.

"Thank you, Tonks, for having me, but I am afraid I'm very poor company tonight. I should go."

Her jaw dropped. Remus turned, but not before he glimpsed the utter bewilderment in her eyes. It stopped him in his tracks. Why couldn't he even do the right thing properly? He wouldn't be a wolf till tomorrow; couldn't he behave like a decent human being tonight?

Facing her again, though not meeting her eyes, he commanded his lips to smile. "I think that might be the secret of why werewolves aren't popular dinner guests. Abominable lack of social skills at...certain times of the month."

Tonks didn't laugh, which would have made it impossible to maintain even a false smile, or any pretence at jokeyness, even if he hadn't cringed that he'd resorted to using that Merlin-awful _time of the month_ phrase.

"Forgive me," he said, ducking his head before turning on his heel.

"Wait!"

His long strides had carried him across the cramped lounge, but with uncharacteristic dexterity, Tonks had somehow managed to vault over the coffee table -- without upsetting their wine glasses -- and catch his sleeve.

"Look," she panted, dropping his arm as he peered down at her, but keeping her pleading eyes locked on his face, "I get that you don't want to stay with me and my foot-in-mouth curse, but for what it's worth, I think you've been lovely company tonight."

She was sweet, and he appreciated her effort, truly, but she didn't need to soothe him when he was in the wrong.

"Yes, I suppose lovely would suit -- if you were keeping company with an ogre."

Her forehead crinkled, as if in frustration, for a split-second. But then her expression became coy, and she reached out with tentative fingers to straighten his collar.

"You didn't kiss like an ogre." A pause, then, "Erm...Not that I've..." She laughed. "I never kissed an ogre."

"If I had my wine glass to hand, you wouldn't see me drinking, either."

They shared a quiet laugh, which relieved the air in the room of a noticeable amount of tension.

"Remus, I know you're tired and out of sorts as it gets closer to full moon."

She spoke more confidently than she had since accidentally blurting out her sexual status, in the very frank, very unassuming, very _Tonks_ way that so endeared her to him, and made it impossible for him to bristle, or to flinch away.

In fact, his tense shoulders relaxed.

"At least stay and have a hot cocoa with me?" she asked, voice less pleading now; she must have felt she was clawing her way back on top. Though he was fairly certain it would be a mistake to let her... "I want one before bed, and I meant what I said about having chocolate alone. Anyway, it's the least I can do for making this awkward."

"You haven't made it awkward."

On her way to the kitchen, she threw a glance over her shoulder that said, _yeah right_, only to catch her foot on the leg of her coffee table. With an energy he hadn't felt himself capable of exerting, Remus sprang forward and caught her round the waist before she could fall and make a mess of broken glass and bruised Tonks.

As he steadied her, turning her to face him, she said, "My knight in shining armour."

Patched armour, Remus thought, but shoved it away. She was looking at him like she didn't see that. Handsome, she'd said earlier. And he smelt nice, too.

Though he would never, not in a million years, tell Sirius.

"I'd better stay, then," he said, "to--"

"Receive your boon from the lady fair?"

"I was going to say, to accompany the lady fair to the kitchen and serve her faithfully throughout her chocolate-making quest."

Tonks' laughter rang through the flat. "So long as you call me the lady fair."

"I did."

She started to gather the wine glasses and other assorted dirty dishes from the coffee table, but Remus, wanting to atone for his boorish behaviour, waved his wand and sent it all to the sink.

Tonks shot him look of mingled amazement -- and aggravation.

"What?" Remus asked, trying to keep a straight face as he stepped into the kitchen, though it was difficult not to smirk when he new perfectly well why she was aggravated.

"If I'd tried that, the spell wouldn't have held them all, and I'd be short two wine glasses and a plate now."

"It's in the wrist."

"So Mum says." Tonks raised her wand to fill the sink, but then paused and shot Remus a challenging look. "Can you do the _Aguamenti_ with bubbles?"

"_Aguamenti lavere_."

A stream of liquid flowed from Remus' wand and filled the sink with steamy water and fruity-scented foam. He grinned smugly. At least some of his manhood remained intact -- though Sirius would dispute that washing up charms counted.

"I can show off, too." Tonks morphed her hair into shimmering, iridescent curls.

Remus threw back his head as laughter rippled out of him. Could she be any more adorable? Perhaps she did have a positive effect on his stamina, after all. Certainly the next time he cast a Patronus, bubble-haired Tonks would be his inspiration. Bubble-haired Tonks, showing off, flirting with him, driving pre-moon exhaustion and moodiness away.

And then she was stretching up on her toes to peck him gently on the cheek, then laying a firm hand on his shoulder and turning him toward the living room.

"Sit. I've already been a crap hostess by being a sloth whilst you got our wine. I'll take care of the cocoa."

Though Remus suspected she was coddling him, her tone brooked no argument. And he certainly didn't want to make a bigger prat of himself than he'd already done tonight. So he submitted, and went back to the sofa. Admittedly, he enjoyed himself immensely as he watched her potter about the kitchen, and caught a glimpse of her toned stomach and a hip bone as her sweatshirt rode up when she reached for mugs in a high cupboard. His eyes followed the contours of her waist to her hips, her rounded bottom...

Sirius' words about getting laid, popped into his head, and he realised he was seeing himself holding her as he'd done earlier, their lips were locked with his in a heated kiss.

His breath hitched.

He turned away, to face the fireplace, only to realise Tonks was standing in front of him, holding out a steaming mug.

Flustered, unable to meet her eyes as he murmured his thanks, he took it and sipped.

"It's the Muggle kind, in little paper packet thingies. Just add hot water." Grinning wryly, Tonks added, "The kind of cooking even I can't mess up. Unless I spill the water, which you can imagine I do a lot. You like?"

"Not bad." Remus summoned a foil-covered nougat from the bowl of chocolates on the coffee table, unwrapped it, and dropped it into his mug. He caught Tonks watching intently and with a shrug, he explained, "Though I think it needs a little more chocolate added, as well."

"D'you have a sweet tooth in general?" Tonks asked. "Or is chocolate your true love?" Nudging him with her elbow, she added, "Or maybe I ought to say, I've never been a chocoholic. And then I could kiss you, because I have been."

Remus took a long drink and was deeply satisfied by the thick liquid chocolate coursing slowly through him, warming and soothing him.

"Actually, I never have. I certainly like chocolate, but no more than any other sweet. I mainly keep it handy for medicinal purposes."

He'd done it again -- spoken about the moon's effects without even thinking about it. Though this time, he wondered whether it wasn't him being too tired to keep his guard up, but instead feeling comfortable enough with Tonks to speak openly about his curse.

_It couldn't be that easy. _

_Could it? _

"Chocolate works better than any cramp potion I've ever tried," she said. "Does that make it the cure-all for every sort of monthly curse?"

Remus scalded his tongue, because he was battling choking or spewing hot chocolate as he laughed. Avoiding both scenarios, he found his voice and said, "Perhaps we'd better get back to our game."

Though he'd spoken lightly, inwardly he was marvelling that Tonks could refer to his curse as though it were one of life's natural rhythms. If she was put off by it, then she wasn't worth it, Sirius had said. Remus had done a lot of off-putting things tonight, and yet they hadn't seemed to take.

_Was Tonks worth it? _

They played a few more rounds of I Never, which consisted of wholly innocuous questions, non-intoxicating drinks of cocoa, and kisses that were mere pecks. Remus wasn't sure what the latter meant. Not that chastity was a bad thing -- and with thirty-five years of celibacy under his belt, he thought no one could dispute his expertise in the matter.

Except for Sirius, who didn't think you knew a bloody thing if you'd never had sex.

But then Tonks gazed at him levelly, and stated, in a slow, low tone:

"I've never wanted to be more involved in a person's life who wouldn't let me in."

Remus sat.

Tonks drank.

She kissed him.

Then she stood.

"Don't take it personally," she said, arching up on the balls of her feet and stretching, cat-like, mouth open in a wide yawn, "but I'm going to send you home now. It's time for Aurors to be in bed, and you look like you could do with sleep, too."

Remus could do nothing but allow her to guide him to the fireplace.

"See you tomorrow?" she asked.

"Tomorrow…"

Remus' heart beat, once. He understood now, that she'd been standing all night at the door of his heart -- a door which, for the first time in his life, had been opened. But she couldn't enter. She was stuck on the threshold, waiting for him to speak a particular phrase that would grant her entrance, or to shut the door in her face. She wouldn't wait forever.

Nor could he shut it.

_Overdue, not pathetic. _

He would be a Gryffindor. He would speak the words now -- two, little words, which other people, _normal _people, spoke every day without thought.

"Tomorrow is the full moon."

"I know," Tonks said -- again as though nothing extraordinary lay behind why they couldn't be together the next evening. "Do you not want to see me before moonrise?"

It wasn't that he didn't want to see her...If only he could do that without her seeing him, so ill, so weak...

_Unadulterated male ego_.

No wonder Severus called Gryffindors arrogant.

"Or the day after?" Tonks asked. "I could wait, if that would be better."

If he was bad now, he would be absolutely wretched the day after...

His eyes flicked down from her face, the slogan on her sweatshirt seeming almost to flash as though lit like electric Muggle signs on shop fronts. _Just Do It. _

He ought to say yes. Yes to tomorrow, yes to the next day, if he wanted to make a real effort at this.

He only said, "I'd like to have tea tomorrow, if you can slip away from work before moonrise."

"I'll do it," said Tonks, firmly, but her eyebrows knit in a frown. "But not the day after?"

Remus brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Not yet."

He was such a coward for saying it, and he darted his eyes away from her lest he see that he'd let her down. But Tonks' strong fingers lifted his chin, and he saw her smiling with both lips and eyes.

"It's okay." Her arms snaked around him, and she hugged him tightly.

He leant into her, resting his forehead against hers. Her skin and breath were so warm. He lingered against her till she shifted suddenly, closing the gap between their mouths. It was no tentative touch of her lips, meant to accommodate frailty, but the usual assertive, enthusiastic kiss Tonks regularly bestowed. Remus wrapped his arms around her waist, and did his best to match her.

Their kiss was abruptly broken by Tonks' cry of, "Oh!"

Before Remus could discern the cause of the exclamation, she'd whipped out her wand, aimed it at her kitchen cupboard, and said, "_Accio_ hot chocolate mix."

The packets flew into her outstretched hand, then Tonks shoved them -- daringly -- into the side pocket of his trousers.

"Make sure you've got your wand and kettle and mug handy," she said. "When you let me come, I'll make the cocoa for you myself."

Though something in Remus still resisted this vigorously, a sudden light thought popped into his head, maybe from the sensation of her kiss still tingling on his mouth, or because he remembered the warmth on his thigh when she'd slipped her hand into his pocket.

"Will you feed me grapes, too?"

She looked at him with a mixture of amusement and something like she thought he was completely mental.

Mental was good.

Certainly a far sight than a tired, grouchy, pathetic old curmudgeon.

"No," she said, sniggering.

"I shall simply look forward to hot cocoa, then."

The words had not been planned, and Tonks looked as surprised by them as Remus felt. But he did not stammer with clarifications or explanations, because he realised…he meant it. Even if he hadn't told her, what mattered was that she knew, and she'd knocked at the door anyway. Whatever effort was required of him to open himself to her, would be worth it.

_She _would be worth it.

Someday, he would grant Nymphadora Tonks full entrance into that room of his life.

She already stood inside the doorway.

_The End_

* * *

_  
**A/N: As always, I appreciate my readers very much, and I'd really like to know what you thought of this installment of the Transfigured Hearts series. If it'll entice a review out of you, I offer up your choice of Remus to have Game Night with: boyish Remus, who resorts to flicking bits of chocolate wrappers at you because he's too shy to say he fancies you; Marauder Remus, who's determined to get your most embarrassing secrets out of you by getting you drunk with a game of I Never; or sexy Remus, who thinks Firewhisky's best use is for a game of Spin the Bottle... **_


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